Light at the End of the Tunnel
by DevinBourdain
Summary: The Seaview crew struggle to deal with the aftermath of the loss of one of their own while trying to find the people responsible. Series part 2 of 5. Warnings: see profile for series content.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.

Reviews are always welcome.

Part 2/5 in series

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Light at the End of the Tunnel

It was all a blur really, the events of the last few days – hell, it could have been weeks for all the prisoner knew. The last clear memory was being injected with something; but was that before or after the memory of being bashed on the head? His whole body hurt, not just his head and the thirst was just awful. Cautiously he flexed his fingers, then his wrists and finally raised each one of his arms. No chains, cuffs or other manner of restraint. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The room was dark, but there was enough light peeking under the door to show there was nothing in the room except the cot on which he currently resided.

Captured, again. It seemed to the prisoner that this scenario was becoming far too frequent for his liking. What was it this time? Some rogue agent? Alien? Science experiment gone awry? The People's Republic? No, those weren't the things that were going on just before everything blurred together. 'Scientists' did ring some sort of bell, but not the usual creature feature that seemed to be becoming a common occurrence aboard _Seaview._

He remembered they were doing research on weapons, and Nelson left for a conference while _Seaview _remained to continue the tests. That was awhile ago. It was starting to come together. The memories remained fuzzy regarding how he came to be in this small cell.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Rattling of keys announced company. The man in the cell slowly sat up as much as his protesting muscles would allow. The room tilted slightly but soon came back to right. The lock clicked, and the room was bathed in a brilliant white light as the door swung open. He shut his eyes tightly to block out the sharp pain that the light brought.

Two very muscular, black-uniformed guards entered the room. Without a word they marched over to the cot and stood at either side. Cracking his eyes open slightly, the prisoner could see another figure standing in the doorway, but the contrast of the light hallway and darkened cell prevented him from making out any features that would give away her identity.

The figure at the door eyed the captive for a moment before issuing a single command: "Bring him." They roughly hauled the prisoner to his feet. The woman who issued the order turned sharply and two guards to drag their prisoner down the hallway behind her.

The prisoner tried to walk under his own power, but was not as successful as he would have liked due to his disoriented state. Observing his surroundings as closely as possible, he noticed that the corridor was sparsely populated; in fact in the many turns he saw no-one else. The guards manhandling him kept their eyes on the woman leading them. They never looked around, never slowed their pace.

Maybe his theory about the People's Republic was correct. The woman certainly looked like she could work for them. She too was dressed all in black, but unlike her comrades, her uniform was made of leather. Her long black hair was pulled back in a braid. The woman also never looked around, never spoke, just kept the steady pace going.

When the prisoner thought they couldn't possibly continue walking, the group came to a large room. Just before entering, the prisoner caught a glimpse of two figures down another hall. Suddenly it clicked. He remembered how he knew one of those two people, and the events that led him to this current predicament. Oliver Shaw was here.

The ceiling was high, and one wall was lined with bookshelves filled with old and thick books. There was an enormous fire place on another wall. The stone work was rather impressive, and the heat from the roaring fire filled the room. The carvings and paintings on another wall were aglow from the firelight. The last wall was lined with a bar decorated with fine crystal glasses of various shapes and sizes. Each cabinet was filled with bottles of various liquors and wines. In the middle of the room, on the Persian rug and under the expansive chandelier, was a large mahogany table. Three high-back wood chairs were placed on both sides, and one chair at each end. The table had place settings at each end and candles placed in the center.

The prisoner was roughly pushed into one of the chairs at the end of the table and his hands bound to the arms of the chair with rope. When that task was complete, the two guards exited the room through the door they used to enter. The woman moved to stand just off the prisoner's right shoulder. There was nothing to do but sit there and wait. Wait for what? The man did not know.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Lt. Commander Charles Philip Morton," came a deep voice from somewhere behind him. The speaker sat down at the other end of the table. He was in his fifties, with dark hair and eyes. He wore dress pants and a white dress shirt. Without taking his eyes off the exec he continued, "Or Chip to your friends."

"Yes, my _friends_ call me Chip," replied Morton in his most defiant tone.

"Spunk, Charles! I like that, but it will do you little good here. Allow me to introduce myself. You can call me Alexei and the she-devil to your right is Itami. Don't let her petite size fool you. I'm sure she knows ten different ways to kill you with her pinkie finger."

Alexei nodded to Itami, who stepped forward and, in one quick motion, cut the bonds around Chip's wrists. She then returned to her rigid stance just behind Morton's right shoulder.

"I was hoping you would join me for dinner, Charles. My chef is preparing some of your favourites."

Taking his usual stoic approach, Chip decided to let Alexi lead the conversation in a hope that he would divulge something useful. The more he learned about this new enemy the better armed he was for a possible escape attempt or way to foil this man's plans.

There was something familiar about Alexei that the exec just couldn't place. He was certain that he had never had any direct dealings with the man but there was something familiar about him.

"I don't want anything from you except why I am here and what have you done to _Seaview_ and Admiral Nelson! Your goons said you had plans for them."

"There's no need for this to be unpleasant Charles, I've done nothing to your precious _Seaview_ or your dear Admiral Nelson. Your gallant Captain Crane made it in time to warn Nelson about the bomb, and everyone lived to see another day. Well, everyone but _you_, I assure you your friends are quite convinced that you died in the explosion that destroyed the test station."

Unguarded emotions played across Chip's face at the news his friends were OK but that they believed he was dead. The man was cold and his face was worn with years of experience. He sat there staring at the XO while sipping his glass of red wine. Morton felt like Alexei's eyes could pierce his very soul.

A man dressed in a butler's uniform pushed a small cart to the table. The smell of steak and baked potato filled the air. The servant placed a plate of food in front of Alexei along with cutlery and a napkin. He then proceeded to do the same in front of Chip. A glass of water as well as a glass of wine was placed at the blond's setting. Without saying a word, the man exited as quickly as he entered, and left the three alone. Morton eyed the delicious stake dinner before him and felt his stomach growl. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a meal, but did he want to give his captor the satisfaction of accepting his 'hospitality'? Chip decided to take advantage of the meal; it could be awhile before such an offer was made again. If he appeared to be cooperating and could keep Alexei talking, Chip might be able to pocket the steak knife for use later.

"There is no one that knows you're here, and no one to rescue you Charles; you are alone. The reason you're here is you have some information I require, and I would be much obliged if we could forego any unpleasantness in the acquisition of that information. After that, you'll be free to go."

"I'm not going to tell you anything. I won't betray my friends or my country, and I'm not stupid enough to think that you'll simply going to let me go once you have what you want."

"I've been doing this for a long time, so I'll fill you in on the ground rules. One, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to be cliché and tell you my plans, but when I say I will let you go if you cooperate, I mean that at that point there will be no one that can interfere with my plans and that you will no longer be of use to me. I have no ill will towards you Charles. The only one I take any satisfaction in causing pain is Captain Crane for constantly ruining my operations with his ONI work. Two, it doesn't matter how stubborn you are, how right you think you are or how much is at stake, everyone breaks; it's just a matter of finding the correct persuasion. It's pointless to try and fight me. It's not like your friends will know you helped me: they think your dead. Third, don't assume I don't have contingency plans. I have prepared for the best, worst, probable and improbable scenarios."

His captor's words ran through Chip's head as he watched the man pick up the crystal stemware and take a drink of wine. If everyone thought he was dead, there would be no rescue coming. He would have to come up with a way to escape on his own or find a way to let someone know he was still alive. The first order of business was to find out exactly what was going on, and why he had been spared from the explosion that undoubtedly destroyed the research station.

"What is it you think I would be willing to help you with?" he asked, with a level of defiance in his voice, that did not match his internal confidence level.

"Before the events that brought you to your current predicament, you were on the lead team putting together the computer systems and programs to control the UWB21 project. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to acquire several key components required to successfully launch the program. I learned that you would be relaying information from the station back to _Seaview_ and Dr. Malcolm. With Dr. Malcolm off the station, that makes you my best option. In short, I want you to fill in the blanks in the copy of the program I have acquired and make it work so I can sell it on the black market."

Morton threw his napkin on the plate, covering the utensils, and said, "I won't help you."

Alexi let out a sigh and stood up from the table. Taking his wine glass, he walked to the fireplace. He twirled the crystal glass in his fingers, watching the light dance off of the glass for a few moments, not paying any attention to Chip.

The Commander, cautiously slid the knife from under the napkin and up the sleeve of his uniform shirt.

While silently contemplating the fire Alexi said, "You know the expression 'this is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you?' Well, I'm afraid it's not applicable in this situation, Charles. Itami there is like family. I love her like a daughter and spoiled her as such at Christmas by giving her new toys; none of which you will enjoy. She's very good at her job, Charles. She can persuade anyone, and I will let her demonstrate her skills for you if you do not agree to help me."

"You have my answer," was the simple response from Morton.

Alexi flicked his hand. Itami grabbed Morton's bicep, pulling him out of the chair. The older man had been right when he said not to underestimate the small girl. Her small hands had a very powerful grip. Morton had to step away from the table slightly to relieve some of the pressure on his arm.

Alexi abandoned his wine glass and stood in front of the XO. The man had yet to show any real emotion. Their whole conversation, he had maintained the same even tone. Chip's defiance had not rattled him in the slightest.

Very calmly, as if he was reporting the weather, Alexi said, "I've worked for many agencies and many countries. I've been a double agent and a triple agent, so believe me, Charles, when I say I understand your desire to protect your friends and country. I understand and respect your decision, but I have to do what I have to do, and it won't be pleasant for you, Charles."

The two sized each other up for a moment. Just as Itami started to haul Chip off to his cell, Alexi said, "Oh and Charles - give me the knife."


	3. Chapter 3

It was six weeks since the memorial service for Chip, and things were slowly turning back to normal, or as normal as they could get considering the circumstances. Nelson was starting to accept missions for _Seaview,_ but they were mostly observation and scientific research missions. Nothing, that was even remotely considered high risk, and certainly nothing that involved hunting down those responsible for Morton's death. The risk of repeating past events was too great without detailed information about this new enemy, and so far intelligence had produced very little.

Lee felt his frustration grow with each passing day. The week retreat to Jamieson's cabin had only served to push his feelings of guilt to the side until he brought those responsible to justice, not resolve them. Mrs. Morton called weekly, to check up on him but Crane couldn't bring himself to take the calls. So every week, Mrs. Morton would talk to the Captain's answering machine and ask him to call, and every week Crane would play the message over and silently promise that he would call when he finally had something to give the mourning family. The problem was they were not out there looking for the culprits.

The incident investigation only answered the basic questions. Dr. Sam Malcolm had been cleared of any wrong doing and released from custody. It was clear that there was or had been an operative on the inside, but so far there was not enough evidence to clear or condemn the late Shaw and Highner. Malcolm and tech Archer were charged with reviewing the data collected by the brief test _Seaview_ had conducted to determine what had been tampered with.

Malcolm had concluded that sensor shadows and failure of one of the sensors had masked the presence of enemy submersibles. The bomb could have been planted after _Seaview_ went chasing their red herring, but someone on the underwater base still had to manipulate the sensor data. The question still remained as to why or if Shaw or Highner would be party to those events. Someone also had to be sending and intercepting communications between Nelson and Starke to have the Admiral attend the conference in New York.

The biggest unanswered question was who was behind this. They were good; they left no trace behind. Even the young man they had taken into custody at the conference center couldn't tell them anything. Crane didn't even get a chance to question him since he was found dead in his cell a mere two hours after being arrested. Whoever was responsible, they meant business. This man knew how to hurt the Captain, and thus far had been extremely successful at it, but there had been no further word from his tormentor. Crane had a sinking feeling it was the calm before the storm.

He sat in a chair outside Nelson's office like a child called before the principal. Crane listened to the muffled screaming match that was taking place within the office. It sounded very similar to the argument that took place three weeks ago. Lee had been waiting in the same spot for that argument to end too.

The office door slammed open with a tremendous thud, and out stormed Lt. Commander Daltry. The man marched past the Captain without even acknowledging his presence.

Daltry had assumed the position as acting XO three weeks ago. Lee despised the man and needless to say, they did not along very well. The tension did nothing for the performance of the crew either.

As soon as Daltry was out of Nelson's line of vision he bellowed, "Lee, in this office, _now!_"

_Yep, definitely like being called in front of the Dean._ Lee entered the office, closed the door and sat opposite a rather irate Admiral. Nelson finished writing some notes before he looked up at his Captain.

"In case you couldn't tell, Commander Daltry has resigned his position with _Seaview_. That's the second potential XO you've managed to dissuade in the last four weeks. That's a rather impressive score, _Captain_, don't you think?"

"With all due respect, _Admiral, _Daltry was incompetent and a detriment to this crew."

"Daltry came highly recommended. I don't think it was his qualifications that you had an issue with," said Nelson.

"It's my job to take care of this crew, and I don't feel he was up to our standards."

The Admiral rubbed his hand on his forehead a few times while he collected his thoughts. The real issue was not lost on Nelson. There would be no one 'qualified' to accept the position of first officer aboard _Seaview_ in Crane's opinion. In truth, the older man wasn't sure he would be able to find someone he felt could fill the gap left by Morton.

"This crew can't function without a first officer, Lee. Someone will have to fill the position."

"Why can't you promote O'Brien?"

"We both know he's not ready. Besides, in light of recent events, the Pentagon wants to sign off on the command staff, and they would never agree to promote the Lieutenant. They want someone with more experience. Now, I have to spend tomorrow looking for someone brave enough to come and work with _you_. Since I have to spend my time reviewing service files, let me tell you what _you_ will be doing."

Lee knew that Nelson would have nothing good in store for him. He knew he had gone out of his way to make Daltry's life difficult, and now it was time to pay the price.

After pausing for a moment to make Lee squirm, Nelson continued, "Karen Morton called the other day. She will be flying in tomorrow morning to start packing up Chip's house. She said they found a place to store his things, and I want you to help her."

"But sir, I don't think it's a good idea for me to be around Chip's mother . . ."

"But nothing, Lee. You will pick her up at the airport, you will help her pack, and you will drive the truck to where ever she wants. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," was the subdued answer.

In a more concerned tone, the Admiral added, "Lee, she's worried about you, frankly, so are Jamie and I. You can't keep avoiding this forever."

Nelson finally dismissed Lee and allowed him to leave the office. Crane came to conclusion that he could handle one day. He would be pleasant and charming and do anything Mrs. Morton asked.

Not that Lee had anything against the Mortons: quite the opposite. They were his second family. If he needed anything, they were there for him. It made the whole situation more difficult. They were a tight knit family, and had welcomed Crane with open arms. The Captain had spent many holidays with Karen, Jack, Chip and his older sister Ashley, and their kid sister Mackenzie. When Lee told the Mortons what had happened, he expected them to be angry, to hate him, but instead Mrs. Morton hugged him and cried on his shoulder. He had let their son and brother die, and they were worried about him. Lee knew he didn't want to spend a day having them be concerned for him, have them tell him that it was going to be ok. He would do it, though; he would do it for Chip.


	4. Chapter 4

The stack of files on Nelson's desk that appeared since yesterday was rather impressive. He had spent all morning going over service records for possible candidates, and had made it maybe an eighth of the way through the pile. All were qualified on paper, but were they really qualified for the type of missions _Seaview_ often found herself on? Nelson had to be confident enough in them to trust his prize sub with them when he and Lee were off on missions. They had to understand how the crew worked and how to get the best out of them. They had to know how to manage Lee and his way of doing things. Lee's biggest enemy was often himself, and Nelson needed to know that his new XO would have the Captain's back - he needed Chip Morton.

The Admiral lit a cigarette and thought back to when Crane had joined the crew. The circumstances were somewhat similar. Captain Philips had been killed in the line of duty, and _Seaview _needed a new skipper to complete a vital mission. Nelson knew Lee was good, but it was after their first conversation on _Seaview_ that he knew Crane was the right man for the job. The success of the mission only confirmed that for the rest of the crew.

Now here he was again, in need of a key player so _Seaview_ could proceed with a vital mission. The world wasn't in jeopardy this time: this was personal. Nelson needed someone who wasn't personally invested in tracking down Morton's killers to keep himself, Crane, and the crew together and focused. More importantly, he needed someone to keep Lee from going on a personal crusade to bring down this new enemy that would probably get himself killed as well.

The intercom on the Admiral's desk buzzed and he clicked the button.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Admiral Starke is here to see you sir," answered Ryan.

"Send him in, Ryan."

A few moments later, the door opened and in stepped Starke. He was dressed in uniform and carried a brown briefcase. He wasted no time in sitting across from his friend.

"To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company today, Jiggs?" asked Nelson as he put his cigarette out.

In his ever abrasive fashion Starke replied, "Heard your boy ran off another one. Two in four weeks. Kind of impressive, don't you think?"

Nelson let out a sigh. News travelled fast.

"It was two in five weeks, and they weren't very qualified for this position."

"Not qualified! Harry we gave you the best."

While it was true both candidates had been more than qualified, Nelson knew they were missing that certain something that would make them valuable member of his crew. He wasn't about to let Crane know that he agreed with his assessment. Lee had been eliminating them based on more personal reasons, but the Admiral knew that, in the long run they would have been a detriment to his organization.

"Well, your best isn't good enough, Jiggs!"

"Alright, I have one more for you." Starke reached into his brief case, pulled out a thick file, and threw it towards Nelson. "People either love him or they hate him. I've heard glowing reviews and petitions to have him thrown out of the service. Apparently he's one hell of an officer, but never met a rule he didn't break. Naturally, I thought of you."

"Naturally," conceded the Admiral as he picked up the file, "and why do I want a high-maintenance officer?"

"Because Greg highly recommends him and is willing to loan him to you," explained Starke, knowing that would pique his friend's interest.

"Greg Hitch highly recommends this kid?"

Starke nodded. Hitch had a talent for making some of the best officers in the fleet. Anyone he recommended would be worth a try. If he could look past some of the more interesting spots in the kid's record, then maybe this would be the solution to Nelson's problem.

"You don't have a lot of options left, Harry. You can either take this officer, or find yourself sitting on the sidelines while ONI goes after your bad guys."

Starke watched as Nelson ran the options over in his head. After a few moments, he stood up and grabbed his brief case.

"Come on, Harry: let's go meet your newest crewmember."

Reluctantly, Nelson followed Starke out of the office. He instructed Ryan to cancel his meetings for the next two days, and have the Institute private jet prepared to fly to San Diego. As the pair drove to the airport, the Admiral couldn't help but wonder how his Captain was fairing with his task today.


	5. Chapter 5

Lee stood in the crowd of people waiting for their loved ones. As the arrival time drew nearer, the brunet grew antsier. He started drumming his fingers on the windowsill while he kept an eye out for the plane, then it turned into constantly tapping his right foot. The moment of truth finally arrived. Lee knew that Mrs. Morton wasn't going to walk off the plane and start yelling at him, slap him and curse the day he was born for the events of six weeks ago but perhaps that was the problem. Crane was quite convinced that was what he deserved, but he knew that Karen would come off the plane, ask how he was, and start to mother him as she usually did when they got together. That was not going to make the elephant in the room disappear.

The arrival of flight 302 was announced, and the crowd of people began to converge on the gate exit doors. One by one, the passengers passed through the doors and embraced loved ones on the other side. Crane watched with silent envy.

The crowd parted and there stood Karen Morton. She, like her two daughters, had the same blue eyes as Chip. Her light brown hair was slightly longer than shoulder length, and she was dressed in a simple taupe t-shirt and blue jeans. The second she spotted Crane, she walked over and gave him a hug.

With her head on his shoulder, she said, "You never answer your phone."

Lee lifted her off his shoulder to look her in the eyes, but before he could offer an explanation, she cut him off.

"Jack, the girls and I have been so worried about you." Karen stopped to wipe away the tears that were starting to form, "tell me, how have you been?"

Crane gave her a slight smile. "I get by."

Mrs. Morton nodded in understanding, then the pair made their way to the carousel to pick up her luggage. After grabbing her bag, Lee escorted her to his car and they made the journey to Chip's house. The car made its way down the highway, the sun shining and a cool breeze blowing.

"I see you came by yourself," commented Lee.

"Ashley had to stay at home with the boys. Mark had to take a business trip, and I didn't want her to leave Harley and Levi with a babysitter. Mackenzie has school, and she's already missed so much already."

"I'm sure the university will understand her absence, given the circumstances."

"I'm sure they would, but it turns out that she'd been skipping classes long before this, putting her scholarship in jeopardy. Damn it, Lee, I had to escort her to class all last week and sit there to make sure she stayed. I made Jack stay to keep an eye on her. She's handling this about as well as you. If we don't talk about it, we can pretend it didn't happen."

The car pulled up in front of the house. Neither one moved. They sat there until the silence became suffocating.

"That's not what I'm doing. I . . ." Lee couldn't bring himself to lie. He wanted nothing more than to pretend it didn't happen.

"Everyone is worried about you, Lee. You know you can talk to us, to me, about it. I don't blame you for what happened," Karen said, her voice thick with concern for the young man that she thought of like one of her own.

"Maybe if you tell me that a couple hundred more times, I might start to believe it," was Crane's defeated response.

"Lee, the only person to blame is the man who did this. You're not responsible."

"But I made the choice. If I had done things differently, maybe we would have made it in time. If I had been more suspicious, I could have stopped Chip from even going over to the base."

"Based on that logic, it was Chip's fault. He accepted the mission; he agreed to get involved with the technological aspects of missions. Let's take it even further: it's Nelson's fault. He offered Chip the position at the Institute. It's my fault Lee. I let him join the Navy; I could have talked him out of it, but I didn't."

"It's not your fault. Once Chip made his mind up about something, there was no changing it."

"And it's not yours. Now you need to start believing it, or so help me Lee, I will escort you to the office every morning and sit with you all day and make sure you stop blaming yourself. You know I'll do it; I'm a Morton after all."

Crane had to chuckle. He knew she meant business. He could just picture the faces of his friends if he walked into the office with Mrs. Morton in tow to make sure he wasn't engaging in the self-blame game.

The duo quietly exited the car and took the first steps in their daunting task; closing the book on Chip Morton's life.


	6. Chapter 6

The only sound was the calm lapping of the waves as they hugged the white sandy beach. The water itself was an awe-inspiring teal. A gentle breeze traced its fingers lightly through the palm trees and served as the current that wispy white clouds drifted. The sand was still warm from the setting sun that splashed a pallet of colors across the horizon. The last piece of paradise was the silhouette of the sleek sub _Seaview_ in the distance. Perfect. Morton thought he could stay there forever.

The contrast of the perfect moment to cold hard concrete brought the Lt. Commander back to reality. The start of the day was usually marked by one of Alexi's goons quite literally kicking him out of his cot. Despite the ache of every square inch of his body, Chip managed to rise from the floor. The two 'escorts' brought him before their boss.

Every day was different, but they all followed the same routine: Morton would be brought before Alexi and asked if he had reconsidered his position on helping him, and every day Chip would come up with a new way to refuse. Alexi would leave the room, and Morton and Itami would be left alone. According to Alexi that was when the fun began.

After Itami had her fun, Goon 1 and Goon 2, as Chip liked to call them, would drag him back to his cell. Depending of the damage incurred by the day's activity, a doctor might be sent in to treat some of the more serious wounds. Chip felt that the doctor could use a few pointers regarding his bedside manner. Most of the 'help' hurt worse than the actual torture.

The day would conclude with a bowl of what they called food, and a metal cup of water, shoved through a slot in his cell door After consuming the meager meal, the commander would crawl on to the cot and pull up the ragged blanket. Then there was nothing to do but think and wait. Think about how to get away, think about how to alert his friends to come save him. Wait for an opportunity to escape, wait to be rescued.

Chip had yet to find the 'fun' in any activity that resulted in two broken ribs, a broken finger, dislocated shoulder, a multitude of cuts, scrapes and burns, and a collection of black bruises that could let him pass for a cheetah. Through every beating, Itami never spoke a word or made a sound. She did smile; Morton decided he hate that smile. He hated it more than he could ever remember hating anything before. Yesterday's toy of choice had been a scalpel. Chip once heard of a torture called 'death of a thousand cuts'. He might not have received a thousand cuts yesterday, but it felt close.

Today was different. After being dragged before Alexi, Chip noticed that Itami was nowhere in sight. They weren't meeting in the room Morton was usually tortured in. Today, they met in the dining room that Chip had met Alexi in the first time; the only difference was his hospitality had gone drastically downhill.

Alexi sat at the head of the table, dressed in a black suit accented with a coral tie. He drummed his fingers on the white linen while his minion forced Chip into the chair at the other end of the table. Alexi had the same non-expressive look he always had. No one spoke.

Finally, Alexi stopped tapping his fingers and snapped, "Well? What's your answer today, Charles?"

Chip put all the defiance he could in to the one simple word: "No."

"You obstinacy is getting tiring. Didn't your mother ever teach you about cooperation?"

Morton rolled his eyes. "She taught me about doing the right thing. What's the matter? Am I wearing you down?"

The exec felt a flicker of hope that his captor's resolve might be waning. Things must not be going as anticipated. If Chip could cause Alexi's frustration to crack the foundation of his plan, then Morton might gain the advantage and put an end to any of his captor's schemes.

"Your stubbornness is a waste of _my_ time and _your_ life!" roared Alexi.

The two stared at each other coldly. Neither wanted to give the other the satisfaction of blinking first.

Alexi picked up his highball glass and carried it to the mantle. He drank the entire contents in one swallow, put the glass down, then leaned against the detailed stone work and contemplated his next course of action.

"You want to play, Charles, we'll play." He spoke quietly, the implication loud and clear. "I'm sure you've noticed that Itami is not with us today. This is good for you, but bad for your friends. As we speak, she's headed to Santa Barbara to pay them a little visit; she might even detour to Chicago to visit the family."

Chip relied on years of command to keep a poker face. If he let his fear show, Alexi would have him. Sense of duty warred with the desire to protect the ones he loved. If he gave in, there was no guarantee that Alexi would leave them alone. If he capitulated, they could be used against him again and again. If he stood his ground, continued refusal would mean the suffering of his kith and kin. Then again Alexi, could be bluffing; but could he take the chance?

_Damned if you, damned if you don't_. Taking a deep breath, Morton made his decision.

"I will not help you."

"Very well, Charles. I will not be responsible for what happens next. Take him to his cell."

Alexi waved his hand, and the two goons obeyed.


	7. Chapter 7

Starke parked the rental car at the end of the driveway. He and Nelson knocked on the door. It was a typical white-picket fence-suburb: the houses and lawns all looked the same.

Starke shifted his weight and knocked again. Eventually, the door opened a crack and a teenage boy stuck his head out. He let out a yawn, and ran his hand through his messy hair, eyed the two visitors standing on his door step.

In the typical teenage tone, he said, "You're recruiting door-to-door now?"

"Is this the Davenport residence?" asked Nelson as he checked the address once again.

"Ya," replied the boy as he let out another yawn.

Starke barked out, "We're looking for Commander Lyndon Davenport. Is he home?"

The teenager glanced over his shoulder and yelled, "Lyndon! Your peeps are here!" Turning back to the two men in uniform, "You might as well come in."

Resisting the urge to rattle off a lecture about respecting one's elders, Starke stomped inside, followed by Nelson, who closed the door. As they stood in the living room, all three heard footsteps coming down the flight of stairs in front of them.

The teenage boy mumbled, "It's too early for this shit."

Jiggs glanced at his watch. "It's noon!"

"Like I said, it's too early for this shit." The boy turned to go down the flight of stairs to the basement then looked back at the man that had just come from upstairs. With a disgusted look on his face, he commented, "_Nice_ hair, dude!" and proceeded to leave the room.

The young man, in his early thirties with jet black hair, ran a hand down the back of his head, removing a pink sparkling barrette. He shrugged and said, "Tea party."

Before either the Admiral or Starke could ask for clarification, a nine year old girl in a tiara appeared at the top of the stairs. "Are you coming back for cookies, Daddy?"

"I'll be up in a minute, Emily. You and Jayden start without me. I have some business here first."

The little girl, satisfied with the answer, went skipping back down the hallway.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" asked Lyndon.

"I'm here to offer you a possible career opportunity," said Nelson.

The three men went into the kitchen and sat down at the oak table. The room was bright, and the large patio door allowed the afternoon sun's warmth to fill the kitchen. Nelson surveyed his surroundings. One thing that stood out was the fridge. It was covered with drawings of varying skill. Barnyard magnets held up the children's art work. Family photos decorated the walls.

The Admiral had read Davenport's service record, and had Ryan do some digging. The Lt. Commander appeared to be a very competent officer. There was high praise from people that Nelson respected, and some incidents with people that Nelson did not look on favorably. Based on Lyndon's career, the Admiral believed that he stood a very good chance of becoming a valuable member of _Seaview's_ crew.

Ryan's search had produced more information about Davenport as a person. He was the second child of four, with an older brother, and a younger sister and brother. The Davenports were a wealthy, high society family. Their father had been an ambassador to several Asian counties over his career. Lyndon and his older brother had a very colorful childhood, from what information Ryan could access. His parents separated when he was a teenager, with the mother taking the youngest son with her and leaving the other three children with their father, who had zero interest in raising them. After high school, Lyndon attended Annapolis and married after graduation. He had two children, one girl age nine and one boy age five. Four years ago, his wife died in car accident, leaving Lyndon to raise the children on his own. Two years after that, Davenport's mother passed away and guardianship of his younger brother fell to him. All reports suggested he was very family oriented, a trait that Nelson appreciated.

The house further emphasized the value of family to the prospective crew member. Lyndon's diverse background and family oriented nature would help him assimilate into the NIMR family. The more Nelson talked with the young man, the more he felt this candidate might fill part of the hole left by the untimely death of Chip Morton.

"Well?" asked Starke once they were back in the car.

"I think this might work out. We'll see how the trial run goes," replied Nelson.

"It better work. You're out of options if you want to be cleared to track down whoever blow up the base."

The duo made their way to the airport and back to Santa Barbara. Nelson hoped that Crane's day with Mrs. Morton had benefited him as much as he believed the journey to San Diego was going to benefit _Seaview_.


	8. Chapter 8

Karen Morton opened the front door and stood in the entryway. Lee followed. The flood of memories was hard to ignore, and it took a few moments before either one had the courage to go further inside.

"I don't even know where to start," said Karen as she entered the living room. When the family came for the memorial service, they had taken a few more personal items, otherwise everything else was exactly the way Chip had left it.

"I guess we start with what you're keeping, and what's going," said Crane.

"They say you're supposed to do this right away. I just - I didn't want to get rid of something and regret it later." Karen paused and wiped away the tears threatening to spill. Her husband Jack had been in the Navy before he went to law school and, every time he was away she, had prepared herself for the knock at the door saying he wasn't coming home. She had thought she was more prepared for the phone call six weeks ago, but as she stared at the home that belonged to her son, she realized just how unprepared she had been.

Lee placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The lump in his throat prevented him from providing any comforting words. Karen reached up and placed her hand over his and gave it a gentle pat.

"We can do this," she tried to reassure him.

"Where do you want to start?"

Mrs. Morton left out a small sigh as she formulated a game plan in her head. "I'm going to store the furniture, small appliances and dishes at my brother's place. Mackenzie can use them when she goes to UCLA. The clothes I'll pack up and give to Good Will, except for his Navy uniform: I'm not ready to part with that. Any knick-knacks and what not, I'm going to box up in case the boys want something to remember their uncle by when they get older. If there's anything you want, Lee, you can have it. I know Chip would want you to."

Crane nodded his head in understanding. There was only one thing he really wanted: his best friend alive and well.

The pair decided to divide and conquer, with Lee taking the main floor and Mrs. Morton taking the upstairs. The moving truck was delivered shortly after they arrived at the house. Crane spent most of the morning taking empty boxes from the truck to Karen, and then loading the filled boxes. He figured they could have everything loaded by the end of the day, and drive the truck to her brother's tomorrow morning. The few boxes the Captain did manage to pack were full of non-personal items. He just couldn't bring himself to start packing items with sentimental value yet.

Lee's stomach reminded him that the day had progressed to well past lunch time. He went upstairs to see if Karen wanted to go and grab a bite to eat. He found her in Chip's bedroom, a box of Kleenex on one side of her and a stack of framed photos on the other. Crane came in and sat down beside her. The picture in her hand was of two young blonde children in front of a haunted house.

"It's Ashley and Chip at the haunted house at Calaway Park," she said, "Ashley was about seven, making Chip about five. She wanted to go through the haunted house. She insisted she was old enough. We all went through together with Ash in the lead; made it almost to the door without any problems. Ash started running to the exit but it was dark and she didn't see the secret corridor where the staff member was hiding. It was his job to tap people on their way out with this creepy hand. She shrieked and booked it out the door."

Karen gave a faint smile as she told Lee the story. The Captain sat and listened. It felt good to hear stories about happier times.

Mrs. Morton continued, "Chip was so mad that someone would scare _his_ sister. He took her by the hand, calmed her down, and together they went through the house again. Only this time Chip was in the lead. When they got to the spot near the exit, Chip jumped around the corner and nearly gave the employee a heart attack. Chip told him no one picks on his sister. He liked to take care of people."

"Ya, he did."

Instead of going for lunch, the pair remained upstairs and commiserated over the loss each one was enduring. They shared stories about Chip and his different adventures. Karen had many anecdotes to share with the young Captain that his exec had never mentioned before.

For the first time in weeks, Lee actually laughed. It felt good; he hadn't realized how good it would feel to laugh again. His day with Morton's mother had lifted a tremendous weight that had been crushing Crane for the last month and a half. No longer were Lee's thoughts fixated on the tragedy that ended his friend's life, but on the positive contribution that Chip's life had brought to those around him. As he turned off the lights and locked the front door one last time, even though it killed him to do it, Lee could see past the next numbing minute of his life. He could picture what tomorrow might be like.

The next day brought the three-hour journey to Karen's brother's home. Once there, they were able to unload the small moving truck in record time with the help of Karen's brother and her four nephews. With the job done, all that was left was to say good-bye to Mrs. Morton.

Karen had booked her flight home for three days from now and decided to stay and visit with her family. This left Lee to take the truck back to Santa Barbara by himself. The truth was Lee had enjoyed having Karen around; it was like having a piece of Chip around.

As they said their good-byes, Karen gave Lee a crushing hug.

"Thank-you for helping me with this," she whispered in his ear. The Captain nodded slightly, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

"Now I want you to promise me you will come for Thanksgiving. I know that we'd all love to see you." Mrs. Morton pulled Lee back, to look in his eyes as he promised to make the trip out for the holiday. Karen pulled him in tight one last time. "And promise me _you_ will be careful. I buried one son; I _don't_ want to bury another. Promise me you are going to look after yourself."

"I promise," was the simple reply. Crane climbed into the driver's seat and began his journey home.


	9. Chapter 9

_There's nothing like the smell of the ocean,_ thought Riley as he sat on his red surfboard. The blond had paddled out and was waiting for the next wave to move through. They weren't the best waves the young crewman could have asked for, but it was nice to get away for a little while.

Nelson had been putting off missions since the loss of their executive officer, and those they had taken were simple two day research missions; which meant a lot of prep work but not a lot to do when they were out. Life had become very nine to five, in Stu's opinion. That wasn't a bad thing, but it was difficult to get excited about whale migration patterns when they could be out doing something more vital.

With the Admiral gone, the Captain busy, and the latest attempt at replacing Mr. Morton sent back to the Navy, the majority of the crew were enjoying the day off. What better way to enjoy a warm sunny day than at the beach with a board?

One of the benefits to working at NIMR was access to the private beaches that surrounded the Institute. As much as Riley enjoyed the company of fellow surfers, sometimes it was nice to have the waves to himself. Today was no exception; the beach was completely deserted this afternoon.

The solitude provided simplicity. It was just him and the waves. The crew was taking Morton's death hard. The Lt. Commander was a calm and reassuring presence when things started to spiral out of control on _Seaview._ Chip had been there since the beginning, and served as a quiet reminder that they could persevere through anything the world threw at them. Sure the Skipper brought them home safely, but Mr. Morton made the day to day things run smoothly.

Having to deal with a new exec reminded the crew how much they missed him and took for granted that he would always be there. Morton was a hard ass, demanding the absolute best out of his crew, but never more than he himself had been willing to give. _Tough but fair._ Riley thought back to all the times he had been called before Morton for different incidents that usually resulted in a stern lecture.

Riley managed to get in a few good runs, and as the sun started to set, decided to call it a day. He had just made it back to shore when the sound of a Jet Ski caught his attention. Stu stuck his board in the sand and sauntered over to the water's edge. The Jet Ski changed direction and moved towards the beach.

"Excuse me," shouted the young attractive woman in the green bikini. She eagerly waved over Riley. The young crewman smiled and closed the distance between him and the beautiful girl.

"I think I'm lost. Could you help me?" she asked batting her big blue eyes at Stu.

"I . . . I can most certainly try," he stammered.

The women giggled and blushed slightly. She opened a compartment on the front of the Jet Ski and produced a plastic-covered map. "I was looking for this party and must have gotten turned around. I hope you can help me. It promised to be a wicked party."

"Groovy," said Riley as he took the chart. Figuring out where the girl had gone wrong, he turned to show her the correct way.

He turned just as the woman began to bring a knife down towards his back. Riley managed to grab her wrist before the knife made contact, and the two struggled. Stu's adversary was clearly skilled at hand to hand combat. Just when it seemed she had gained the upper hand, he swept her feet out from under her. Riley quickly rolled on top of her but she managed to bring her knee up between them. The woman was stronger than Riley would have given her credit for and she managed to push him off of her.

Riley landed with a thud in the sand. His assailant pinned him down, the knife gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. Their hands locked on the weapon as he tried to push it away. A day's worth of surfing and swimming caught up with him: his strength ebbed, and she brought the blade closer to its goal.

The blonde in the green bikini smiled as the knife slid into him. She pushed down on the blade until it moved through the crewman's shoulder. Stu cried out as the knife slid through him like a needle through cloth. Pain radiated from his shoulder, consuming his entire being. Then there was nothing but black and the fading sound of the ocean.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a typical Tuesday evening, and David Archer was glad to take a break from staring at computer codes to make a quick run to the grocery store. The _Seaview_ tech and Sam Malcolm had been going over every scrap of data from the tests at Base 21 for the last six weeks. This morning, they had decided to take a break and start again fresh in two days. After recharging themselves, they might be able to find something that could point to who was responsible for the devastation and death.

The barren fridge and cupboards in the small apartment proved just how little time he had spent away from the lab. Not finding anything appetizing in the collection of take-out menus decorating the fridge, he decided to take a stroll to the nearest grocery store. It was a beautiful night, and a walk would help to clear his head.

Archer handed the bright-eyed and cheerful clerk his credit card and proceeded to pack up his groceries. He grabbed the bags and started his journey home. It was still early; plenty of time to watch a movie after dinner, he decided. He stopped at the street corner and pressed the button for the walk signal. The traffic lights changed, and the walk signal flashed. The crewman left the curb and moved towards the video store.

A revving engine and screeching tires shattered the night's silence. Archer glanced to his right and saw the headlights of the midnight blue Yukon as it charged the intersection. By the time the situation registered in the tech's brain it was too late to move out of the path of the oncoming vehicle. Gasps escaped from the bystanders that witnessed the body roll up and over the Yukon as it sped off into the night.

"Someone call 911!" shouted one of the video store patrons as they ran into the street to offer assistance to the crumpled body that laid in the intersection.

Several blocks over, the Newmart Theater was emptying as the early showing of classic movie let out for the evening. This week, the theater was showing _The Maltese Falcon. _Will Jamieson and Ryan exited the theater with their popcorn still in hand. The crowd was small, and dispersed quickly into the night. Ryan and Jamie proceeded down the street to the parking lot located at the back of the theater.

"I never get tired of that one," commented Will as he started to fish around in his pocket for his car keys.

"Ain't love grand?"

"Thank-you again, my dear, for another wonderful evening," said Jamie.

Ryan inserted her key into the door of the red and black Mustang.

"Can't wait for _Dial M for Murder_ next week," she replied.

A deep voice from behind caught their attention: "I don't think you'll have to wait till next week for murder."

Three large men dressed in black moved out of the shadows towards the pair. The solitary street light and time of night helped to cloak the identity of the predators moving in on the unsuspecting NIMR employees.

Will moved defensively closer to Ryan as the gang move in. "If you want money, we'll give it to you. No one has to get hurt here," assured Jamieson.

"It's not about money, Doc," retorted the leader of the group.

Jamie felt a knot of dread. Wearing grey pants and an olive button down shirt, there was no way to identify him as a doctor. This wasn't a simple mugging in a back parking lot: these men were specifically after them. The tension was thick in the air and the moment seemed to drag on forever until the three men rushed Will and Ryan.

Despite being a man of healing, Jamie managed to get in a vicious right hook to the side of the head of one of his assailants. He continued to struggle with two of the thugs while the third grabbed hold of Ryan.

Ryan managed to bring her captor to his knees with a well placed elbow to the ribs followed by a swift kick between the legs. Leaving the man writhing on the ground in a heap, she tried to assist Jamie. The doctor was struggling for all he was worth against two opponents. All three men had managed to get in a few good blows.

Ryan moved up behind the thug facing Will and slammed her foot into the back of his knee. The big brute folded up, releasing his hold on the struggling doctor. Taking advantage of the more even odds, Jamie slammed his head back, breaking the other assailant's nose. Twisting around, he landed one final blow to the larger man's head, causing him to fall into an unconscious heap on the asphalt.

Just as the second goon was picking himself off the ground, the theater security guards walked around the corner. Upon taking in the scene before them, they immediately ran over to assist the battered Jamieson and Ryan. Sensing that things were not going as planned, the two thugs departed leaving their unconscious comrade to his fate.

Jamie looked over to Ryan and asked, "Are you OK?" as he shook his hand to relieve some of the pain the last punch inflicted.

Ryan nodded her head slightly. "You?"

"Probably a broken finger, but nothing too serious." Pointing to her left temple, he said, "you're bleeding."

With great care, Jamie tilted the young woman's head to examine the gash more closely. He reached into his pocket and produced a Kleenex, which he pressed against the small wound. "It appears to be superficial. Won't leave a scar."

"Help's on the way," announced one of the security guards as he got off his walkie-talkie.

Hidden in the dark shadows of a nearby roof, the young man in a leather jacket turned off his video camera. He turned to his partner, the young, petite Oriental girl with long black hair. "Didn't turn out like we planned," he commented.

Softly, she replied, "It will work." A smile stretched across her face.


	11. Chapter 11

Nelson burst through the doors of Med-bay like a man possessed. His single goal was to determine the state of his people. After receiving an emergency message from Angie explaining that several of the crew had sustained various injuries and were now at the Institute medical facilities, Nelson had abandoned his dinner meeting to see to his employees.

He rounded the corner to the first bed in Med-bay and found Corpsman Frank taping one of Jamie's fingers.

"What happened, Will?" demanded the Admiral.

"Thank-you, Frank," Jamieson nodded the corpsman in dismissal. "Ryan and I were attacked tonight at the movie theater."

Nelson immediately began looking around the room for his assistant. Unable to locate her, he turned back to Jamie.

"She's alright," assured the doctor, "a small cut to her forehead and probably a black eye, but nothing serious. She went to pull some files for you."

"And you?"

"Broken finger, and I'll be black and blue for awhile but I'll live. If I ever say I long for the good ole days, remind me of this moment, cause I swear I'm too old for this shit, Harry."

The two old friends stood in silence for a moment.

Jamieson continued his catalogue of casualties, "Archer didn't make it. It was a hit and run downtown. Witness accounts are sketchy; I believe the Chief went with Security down to the police station for a full report. That brings us to Riley."

Nelson let out a small sigh. His people were supposed to be safe when they were at home. They took enough risks in the line of duty; they shouldn't have to worry when they were off duty. The loss of Morton was still heavy on everyone's mind, and now they had to face another loss.

"That boy must have a lucky horse shoe firmly planted up his six because if Patterson hadn't been out walking his dog, he would have bled to death. It doesn't stop there though, there's something you should see," explained Will.

The doctor led Nelson over to one of the curtained off areas. Pulling back the curtain, he revealed the prone form of Stu Riley. A large white bandage adorned his butchered shoulder. The heart monitor beeped in a steady rhythm as the unconscious crewman took in slow steady breaths.

Lee exploded through the doors looking disheveled and distraught.

"What happened?" demanded the skipper as he stormed over to Jamie and Nelson.

Sensing his young friend was at the end of his emotional rope, Nelson said "Lee, calm down. There were several attacks on members of the crew tonight including Ryan and Will."

Before Nelson could continue, Crane turned his worried gaze towards Jamie.

"We're fine Captain. Broken finger," Jamie held up his right hand, revealing the bandaged and splinted digit. "Ryan has a black eye and a small laceration on her forehead. Nothing serious. We're more shook up than anything."

"Archer didn't make it. It was a hit and run," added Nelson.

"I was just about to go over Riley's condition with the Admiral. The main issue is blood loss. The wound itself is clean, minimal muscle damage. With some physical therapy after it heals, Mr. Riley should be out catching the waves without any problems. But there's something else."

Jamieson pulled the white sheet off Riley's chest to reveal a large bandage covering his chest. Very carefully, Will removed the tape and peeled back the bandage. Crane and Nelson were both taken aback by what the doctor revealed. Carved into the tan skin was a message.

"You can't protect your people," read the Admiral

"He's back," whispered the Captain.

Neither Nelson nor Jamie could argue with the proof. Lee's tormentor was making himself known again.

"Was there anything on Archer?" questioned Nelson.

"No, the coroner didn't note anything," answered Will.

Nelson fought the urge to light a cigarette. A feeling of helplessness was starting to build, and he didn't like it. Naval Intelligence had yet to uncover any useful information about this new enemy. He had charged Lola Hale, NIMR liaison to ONI, with harassing the agency to produce results. ONI moved at remarkable speed to co-opt _Seaview _or her Captain, but crawled when it came to Nelson's needs. This new antagonist's motive seemed to be torturing Nelson's friend by taking out everyone around him. The older man's blood began to boil at the boldness of this unknown foe.

"We're need to step up security around here. I don't want to take any chances," stated the Admiral. "We have to safeguard 125 crewmen, not to mention Institute employees. We're not going to quietly live in this shadow of tyranny"

"One hundred twenty-three"

The whisper barely caught Nelson's attention. "What?"

A little louder this time, Crane clarified, "One hundred twenty-three. Chip and Archer are dead; that drops the crew compliment to One hundred twenty-three."

Jamieson and Nelson looked at Crane. He had taken on the same defeated posture Will had seen at Morton's memorial service. Before they could address security or personal issues, Chief Sharkey walked into the Med-bay.

"What did you find Chief?" Nelson asked.

"Well you see Admiral, the cops have been at that clown all night, but he's keeping mum you see. They did find this on him sir," Sharkey passed over a photocopy of a letter.

After reading the letter, he passed it to Crane. Defeat turned into rage as the Captain crumpled up the paper and whipped it across the room.

Before storming out of Med-bay Lee declared, "Lola's working late tonight. I'm going to see if she can't force someone to tell us what they know. This needs to end now."

"What did it say? inquired Jamie.

"You came up short again Crane," said the Admiral as he stared at the door his friend just exploded through.

Ryan was sitting in the corner of the empty cafeteria, tears slowly sliding down her face. The table was covered with a few personal folders and a mound of mini bottles covered the table. She never noticed Lee enter the room.

"Have you seen Lola?" he asked, sitting beside her.

"Lola? She was a show girl."

"What?" asked the Captain.

"You _asked_ about Lola. She was a show girl; with yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there."

"Well, that kinda sounds like Lola?" conceded Lee in a skeptical voice. "How much have you had to drink?"

She pointed to the pile of bottles, "I don't know. They're too little." Her voice was cracking in between sobs, "with a big bottle you can tell how much you _drank_ versus how much you _can_ drink, but with little bottles it's impossible to tell."

Crane eyed the twenty sample sized bottles of rum on the table and the condition of his friend. "Does twenty sound right? That's the equivalent of twenty shots."

"You're right. That's two too many." The tears came forth.

"How drunk are you?"

"On a scale of one to ten, one being manageable and ten being if my boss walks in here I'm probably fired - - about . . . thirteen."

"You're upset. It's understandable." This mystery foe took delight in causing him pain, and it affected everyone around him.

"At least I know what room I'm in. Poor Michelle O'Brien, when I went to get the personnel files, she was so upset she didn't realize she was in the personnel files room."

Crane found something that he could do at that moment; he could hold the young assistant and offer her comfort. He reached over and pulled her into a hug. He held her as she cried herself out. The loss of Chip and the night's attacks proved to be too much and she wept.

Through sobs she asked, "You're going to get this guy, right? Please say you'll get this guy."

"I'll get him. You don't have to worry about that," promised Lee. "Let's get some coffee into you."

"Ok."

Curiosity getting the better of him, Lee asked, "Where did you manage to find that much booze here?"

"Cookie keeps a large supply for when he makes rum cake. I sorta liberated his stash."

Not wishing the chef's wrath on anyone, Crane suggested, "Well, we'll make sure we replace that before he notices it's missing."


	12. Chapter 12

Since his last meeting with Alexi several days ago, Chip had been left in his cell. There were no more coercion sessions with Itami, or bids on Alexi's part for Morton's assistance. There was just the cold and solitude of the small cell that the exec had been forced to call home. His only contact with anyone was the guard that dropped his dinner off each night. Even that bit of human contact was devoid of conversation.

The only thing to pass the time was to think. Think about better times with his friends on board _Seaview,_ or family holidays back in Chicago. As the hours dragged on, the blond's thoughts focused on Alexi's threat. Chip held fast to his belief that his captor was bluffing. It seemed that most of his efforts were aimed at Lee. Chip hoped that Crane's ONI training would protect him from anything Alexi might direct towards him on Chip's behalf. The last thing Morton wanted was for his friend to be put in danger because he wouldn't submit to this mad man's demands, but helping could put a lot more people in jeopardy.

After ten days of isolation, the lock on the cell door creaked open and Goon One and Goon Two entered.

"Long time no see boys," he quipped, as he opened one eye to watch his guests.

The guards scrutinized their prisoner as he lay on the cot, not even bothering to rise when they entered the cell.

"I think we need to talk about the poor quality of room service around here," continued Chip.

Not bothering to hide his growing annoyance at the hostage's lack of fear, Goon Two roughly threw Morton against the wall. Goon One locked a pair of cold metal handcuffs around Chip's wrist a little too tightly. The trio made their way down the hall, the two goons taking turns to shove the prisoner along.

Morton stumbled into the dining hall where he had last met with his captor. Alexi looked over from his position at the bar when the thud announced Chip's arrival. Signaling his men to leave the room, the well dressed man jumped off the bar stool, a triumphant grin on his weathered face. Glass of cognac in hand, Alexi strode boldly towards the man sprawled on the ground.

"Charles, come and have a seat," offered Alexi, whose excitement radiated off him like warmth from the sun. He placed his free hand under Morton's elbow and assisted the restrained man to his feet.

Chip made his way to his usual spot at the table. Half way across the room, he caught sight of Itami in her position just behind his chair. Once he was seated, she removed the handcuffs and resumed her rigid stance just out of his line of sight. The greying butler entered the room with his cart and proceeded to fill the XO's wine glass and place his meal in front of him. The butler then moved to his boss's end of the large table and placed his setting.

Chip looked down at the meal of grilled chicken, asparagus and rice. This food was far more inviting than the slop presented to him most nights. Eyeing the food suspiciously, Chip turned his gaze towards Alexi to await his current offer.

The older man watched Morton with great interest. When Chip finally looked to him to explain the luxury being provided, Alexi smiled.

"We're celebrating, Charles!"

"Celebrating what?" Morton's blue eyes were icy daggers aimed at his tormentor. Anything Alexi could get excited about would not bode well for the _Seaview _officer.

Alexi cocked his head to the side and raised his glass in a toast gesture. "Today is the day you are going to agree to help me."

"I told you before. It will be a cold day in . . ."

Alexi raised his hand to silence him. "Before you give me the company line, there is something you should see," explained Alexi.

Itami moved over to the bar and picked up a computer tablet. She brought it to the table and handed it to Morton. Chip looked at the screen as she clicked the play. Morton felt the icy fingers of fear grab at his soul. He watched the video clips with growing trepidation: Riley attacked on a beach near the Institute; Archer hit by a car while crossing the street. The video switched to the attack on Jamie and Ryan, and then to the view of a rifle scope as it followed Nelson and Starke walking across the tarmac to the NIRM's private jet.

Alexi watched Morton view the footage his men had spliced together from their recent attacks on Crane's friends. Not only could he use this to send a message to the Captain, it would also ensure the exec's cooperation. He waited for some emotion to spring forth from the young man across the table, but as in all of their meetings, Morton maintained an air of calm. When the video ended, their eyes locked and, if the seething glare from the Commander could kill, Alexi knew there was no level of Hell deep enough that the exec could condemn him to.

"I told you what would happen. Now, Charles, do we have to go to Round Two or do I have your assistance?"

Chip sat silently, trying to desperately formulate a plan.

Alexi reached over, and picked up a manila folder, and threw it across the table at Chip. The exec opened it to find a Navy officer's service record. The most recent assignment was _Seaview._

"Lt. Commander Lyndon Davenport. Graduated from Annapolis; top four in his class. Nelson is quite taken with him. They have replaced you, Charles. I told you they weren't going to come for you. They have moved on; you are alone."

While Morton was assimilating this information, Alexi snapped his fingers and Itami placed a stuffed teddy bear in front of him. The blond recognized the bear immediately. The chocolate colored animal was dressed in a miniature naval uniform. Chip had given it to his youngest nephew, Harley, for his second birthday. The boy was so enthralled with the bear he never let it out of his sight.

Morton went numb. The room began to spin and his vision blurred except for the bear. He felt his heart pound in his chest. Chip wanted to jump across the table and beat on Alexi until he was a bloody mess on the floor, but the cruel grip of dread paralyzed him.

"They're fine, Charles. Dear, sweet Ashley, her lovely husband Mark, and their two darling children, Levi and Harley, are safe; for the moment. The charming Mackenzie is still alive to write her finals, Karen is still reporting for her shifts at the hospital, and the take no nonsense Jack is still helping charity cases find justice in the courtroom. Now, what are those words I want to hear?"

The man had done his research. He would have to act soon. Chip looked down at the stuffed bear again then slowly raised his head.

Not looking Alexi in the eye and with a subdued voice he answered, "I'll do it."

If it was at all possible, an even bigger smile crawled across Alexi's face.

"Fantastic, Charles! I knew you'd see it my way," he rubbed his hands together, then continued, "Now let's enjoy this delicious meal."


	13. Chapter 13

Itami led the group down the corridor to the lab, followed by Chip, who was handcuffed and flanked by Goon One and Goon Two. Once they reached the lab, Itami took position at the door. Goon One released the cuffs from Morton's wrists and Goon Two attached a shackles to the blond's ankle. He then attached a chain between a metal ring drilled into the concrete in the middle of the lab to the cuff Chip's ankle. Once the exec was secure, the goons left the lab.

It had been the same thing all week. Chip would be taken from his cell in the morning, then shackled in the lab. He would work on the missing parts of the computer program stolen from Base 21 with the scientist he recognized when Chip first arrived at Alexi's compound.

Oliver Shaw was overseeing the project. Shaw had sabotaged _Seaview_ in order to facilitate Alexi's plan and buy him time to download most of the computer programs for the defense project. Sam Malcolm's encryption of several key components, as well as a failure to copy the entire program had left Alexi with an incomplete weapon to sell. Shaw was certain that Morton could fill in some of the missing data since he had worked closely with Malcolm and the integration with _Seaview._

Chip`s dealings with Shaw through the course of the project had left him with the distinct impression that he was not the brains of the operation. Morton was biding his time. Shaw was over confident and frequently left him unattended. The exec knew if he were left alone, there was a good chance he could send a message to alert his friends and Shaw would be none the wiser. The only problem was Itami kept a close eye on every move Chip made.

Itami kept her eyes cemented on her charge. While her skill set ran more towards the implementation of sharp objects as opposed to computer programs, she had been briefed on which computer and which programs the prisoner would have to access for communications. Dr. Shaw was required to review all data entered by the XO at the end of the day to validate his compliance.

The young femme fatale desperately wished Morton would make a wrong move. Babysitting was extremely boring and she longed for the feel of her leather whip mangling flesh. Alexi had specifically requested her for this venture and never wanting to disappoint the man who had done so much for her, she blindly followed his every command; even if it meant babysitting.

To say that Chip was working at his usual proficient and meticulous manner would be the understatement of the century. Morton`s skill probably could have had the program near completion at the end of the week had he wanted. His skills had proved useful in setting back most of Shaw`s breakthroughs, thus buying the exec more time to come up with a plan.

The steady and rhythmic clicking of keys on the computer was overshadowed by a crashing sound in the next room. A highly irritated Shaw came into the lab.

"I need your help in here, now!" shouted Shaw as he stared hard at Morton, "I knocked the sensor casing and components over and I need assistance lifting them up."

Morton casually pushed the wheeled chair away from the desk and shook his left ankle. The metal cuff and chain rattled as Chip moved his foot and he smiled as Shaw rolled his eyes.

Shaw turned to Itami, who still held her rigid stance at the entrance. "I need you, then. If he can't leave the lab you have to help me."

Itami raised her eyebrow as she stared at Shaw, but made no move.

Shaw huffed, "You are supposed to make sure this project stays on schedule, and me putting my back out trying to pick this crap up isn't going to keep us on schedule. He's not going anywhere, and he's not bright enough to accomplish anything that will hinder us in the three minutes it will take you to help."

Reluctantly. Itami abandoned her post and followed the irate doctor into the other room.

_Not bright enough, we'll see about that, _chuckled Chip to himself. The second the pair were out of sight his fingers flew across the keyboard. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Circumnavigating the firewalls and security measures on the system was time consuming, but he found a way to send a message. He just hoped Crane would figure it out.

No sooner had his finger tapped the enter key than a sharp, all consuming pain exploded in the back of his head. Itami lowered the remains of the broken keyboard as she stood over the unconscious and crumpled form of the Lt. Commander. Pushing the bleeding body off the chair, she roughly guided Shaw to sit at the computer.

"Find out what he did!" she ordered in a voice dripping with venom.

"I can't tell exactly what he did," answered Shaw as he checked over the computer; his fear of the small girl driving him to find the answer.

"You better figure it out!"


	14. Chapter 14

Crane parked his red Cobra next to Lt. O'Brien's midnight blue Yukon. His walk from the parking lot to the office was uneventful, unlike the events of the other night. The Institute was on high security and Lee had to pass through several check points to get to his office. Deep down, he knew that if his tormentor really wanted to get to him there would be no amount of security that would keep them all safe.

The waiting added to the stress of the situation. The Admiral had found someone willing to take on the role of _Seaview's_ executive officer and now had the blessing of the Pentagon to pursue those responsible for the destruction of Base 21. The only problem; Lola's last inquiry to ONI regarding possible suspects had turned up empty and Malcolm had yet to find any clues while going over the data and wreckage retrieved from the base. With no leads, all the Captain could do was wait.

Waiting wasn't Lee's strong suit. Being in the action, that's where he thrived and right now he wanted someone to pound. He grabbed a cup of coffee and went into his office. After typing out several reports, he checked his email. It was mostly the usual, but the last one caught his eye.

Ryan was busy at her computer working on the notes for the Admiral's next meeting. The swelling around her eye had gone down but she still displayed a variety of shades of purple. She jumped slightly when Lee ran into the office.

"Where's the Admiral?" asked Crane, forgoing any pleasantries.

"He's in his office . . ." Ryan was cut off as Lee strode boldly towards the door. "You can't go in there Lee. He's in the middle of a meeting."

The Captain paid no attention to Ryan's protests as he opened the door. Nelson, who was in the middle of discussingthe budget with the NIMR department heads looked up at the intrusion.

"He's alive!" shouted Crane, not caring who was in the meeting.

"Angie, gentlemen, we'll have to continue this later," said Nelson as he dismissed the meeting. The staff did not need to witness the scene that was about to play out.

The gathered department heads left the office and Crane went to Nelson.

"He's alive Admiral!" continued Crane, bursting with excitement. His hazel eyes locked with his commander's to convey the gravity of his statement.

"Calm down Lee. Who . . . who's alive?" asked Nelson

"Chip!"

"Chip? What the devil are you talking about?" Concern etched the older man's face. Had the stress finally gotten to the Captain that he was engaging in delusions about their fallen comrade?

"Chip's alive. The email couldn't have come from anyone else."

"Lee, just take a moment. Now start from the beginning. What email?"

"I received a message today from Oliver Shaw, and in the email was an audio file. It was _Livin on a prayer_ by Bon Jovi. Don't you see, it has to be from Chip. No one else knows about it," stressed Crane.

"Now you're not making any sense. What does any of this have to do with Chip?"

"I gave him a birthday card that played that song. It was part of a joke. I bug him about it all the time. Admiral, no one else knows about it, so there's no way Shaw would send it to me. It has to be from Chip," explained Crane.

Nelson felt a flicker of hope ignite. Experience had taught him not to nurture that flame for fear it would die but what if Lee was right and Morton was still alive?

"Why would he send you a message from Shaw?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's the only way he could get it out. Maybe he's trying to tell us something. We know either Shaw or Highner sabotaged us and destroyed the base. Whoever did it would have had an escape plan. Maybe they took Chip with them. He's alive sir, I know it."

Daring to join in Crane's excitement, Nelson agreed it kind of made sense. The possibility of Chip Morton being alive was the best news he'd received in a long time. The Admiral wanted nothing more than for it to be true. Perhaps things were not as dark as they seemed.

Nelson hit the button on the intercom.

"Ryan, I want you to contact Lola and have her get ONI to go over every detail of Oliver Shaw's life. I want everything they can find, from childhood friends to where he bought his groceries, and I want it by the end of the day."

It wasn't a lot, but it was a place to start. Now there was a minuscule spark of hope. Both men were fueled with a renewed drive to find this enemy, bring him down, and bring Chip Morton home.

The End.

(Story 2 of 5)

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Thank-you for reading this story.

Thank-you very much to everyone who reviewed this story (especially more than once) it's very appreciated.

Thank-you to UnpublishedWriter for the beta work and tips.


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